


A Short Drive Home

by ArgentNoelle



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Batmobile, Car Ride, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentNoelle/pseuds/ArgentNoelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman drives Joker to Arkham, and Joker tries to make it last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short Drive Home

“Aww, Batsy, you shouldn’t have,” Joker says. He wriggles around to try to see what’s in the back of the car, but his hands are cuffed, and he has to crane his neck and contort his body so it hangs halfway off the seat, pulling the seatbelt until it gets stuck and steadfastly refuses to move another inch. Joker tries a few more times, but the seatbelts are almost as stubborn as the Dark Knight himself. Figures; they are in _his_ car. Batman watches this display out of the corner of his eye as he drives and his mouth twitches up. Joker notices, of course, and it almost makes up for having lost the battle with the seatbelt. He loves to make Batman laugh. Not that’s he’s ever managed to get him to do so out loud, but he recognizes that hint of a smile that shows that there is a sense of humor hiding somewhere within that dark exterior. He hoards those little smiles, he really does. None of the other villains can make Batman smile like that.

“We’re almost to Arkham,” Batman says at last, after a few minutes of comfortable silence in which Joker looks out the window and makes up stories about the things they pass. Despite the handcuffs (which he really doesn’t mind) riding in Batsy’s car really is very pleasant. It goes fast and everything whips past him like it’s the world that’s moving instead of the car, and he gets to sit in the front seat. He never gets to sit in the front seat when the police capture him. And anyway, these times are happy for another reason. Batman has just won, so unless the Joker has done something unusually horrific, he’s usually in a good mood, the both of them having spent all their rage earlier beating each other to a pulp, giving bruises to remember one another by in the long slow days when they’ll be apart. In the rides to Arkham, Batman is alone with him, and only him. He enjoys their fights of course—how could he not? But sometimes the ride back is almost even more wonderful.

“Oh… all ready?” Joker asks. It’s warm in the car, and cosy, and he doesn’t want to see home yet, as welcome as it will be. He turns to look at the man in the seat beside him critically. “Maybe there’ll be an emergency and you’ll have to make a detour,” he says hopefully.

“Did you _plan_ an emergency?” Batman asks, with just a hint of warning.

“No,” Joker admits with a sigh. Then he brightens. “Maybe next time I can!”

“Don’t.” Batman has his serious-voice on, so Joker drops the subject. If they’re almost home, he wants to enjoy the rest of the ride.

Joker taps his fingers against the window.

“I’m bored,” he announces. He’s not really bored, but he wants to get Batman talking, and he can’t think of anything else to say.

Batman looks over at him incredulously, but then he sighs. “I can put some music on,” he says at last, grudgingly, but Joker shakes his head.

“No, no, I’m not in the mood for music. Let’s play a game.”

“A game…?”

“I Spy, with my little eye… something black!”

Batman gives him an annoyed look. “That’s not a fair hint. Everything’s black in my car.”

“I know!” Joker says, and dissolves into giggles.

After a moment, though, he says, “It was you, actually.”

“What was me?” It’s been a few minutes, and obviously Batman’s thought’s have moved on to other things.

“What I spied. It was you.”

For a moment, Batman’s face is uncomprehending, then he puts it together with what they were talking about last.

“Oh.” Then he frowns. “Isn’t that a little obvious for _I Spy_?”

“You didn’t guess it,” Joker points out.

Batman opens him mouth to say something, and then doesn’t. Joker looks at the dashboard. He tries not to stare, because Batman sometimes gets antsy when he does that, maybe thinking he’ll try to press something. It’s not like he can’t _trust_ him—well okay, maybe he’d pressed things once or twice. Not often. And nothing terribly bad came of it, but Batsy is protective of his car, and that, at least, is understandable, it is a wonderful car, almost as good as Joker’s, with even more hidden gadgets. Batman loves his gadgets.

He’s just thinking up another conversation to start when he realizes he recognizes the street they’re going up and sure enough, when he looks through the window and up the hill there’s Arkham sitting at the top behind the old iron gates. Joker sighs. They continue up the driveway and soon park in the space that has been unofficially reserved for the batmobile (seeing as Batman comes here as much as the villains who live there escape it) and Batman gets out of the car, going over to Joker’s side.

But instead of opening the door, like usual, he opens the back door first, and then Joker is reminded of the thing he had been trying to look at earlier and his curiosity is piqued again. Then Batman opens the Joker’s door and the Joker fumbles with his seat belt, taking a bit longer than necessary with the cuffs around his hand, before he steps out into the (marginally fresh) air.

“So, what is it?” Joker asks.

“You’ll see,” Batman answers enigmatically.

Joker steps closer, looking down at the small black box. It’s taped closed with scotch tape and it seems very mysterious. It seems to be a small gift box, the outside is glossy and only a bit scuffed.

“What’s it for?” Joker continues. “ _Who_ is it for?” It has to be someone in Arkham, or Batman wouldn’t be taking it out right now.

“Can’t you guess?” Batman asks.

Joker frowns, meeting Batman’s eyes. If this is a joke, it isn’t a very good one. But Batman doesn’t look as if he’s joking.

“…Me?”

Batman hand over the box and Joker takes hold of it almost reverentially. But then he holds it up to his ear and shakes it, and it’s a good thing the cover was taped on or whatever was inside it probably would have fallen out. Then he holds it in one hand, and, somewhat awkwardly, hampered by the cuffs, he peels back the tape.

Then he lifts up the cover and sees what’s inside. It’s one of those bobble-head dolls made to look like Batman. Joker looks at it for a moment with no expression, and then he looks at Batman. He can’t be sure but the Dark Knight almost looks embarrassed, or—even crazier—unsure. The Joker looks back down at the doll. He pokes its head and it goes boinging side to side, and a smile comes to Joker’s face. It’s just so ridiculous! And _Batman_ , of all people, gave it to him. He wonders what how far you could pull it until the head breaks off. Perhaps he’ll wait to play with it until he’s inside.

“I saw it and… I just thought it was funny,” Batman mumbles, and Joker looks at him feeling that strange kind of feeling that isn’t all that strange really, except that he’s never felt it for anyone but Batman. It’s kind of glowy and accompanied by the thought that Batman is completely adorable, and that he’s the only thing that the Joker could play with forever without him breaking. That doesn’t mean he won’t try, of course. It wouldn’t be fun if he didn’t try.

“Where did you see _this_? Were you looking for Batman merchandise?” Joker cracks up at the thought of Batman walking through a mall in broad daylight, picking up all the toys and looking at them with that look of determination he has that makes grown men quail.

Batman doesn’t answer, but he relaxes, Joker can feel it. “Come on,” he says, steering Joker by the arm, “We’re late as it is, it’s almost sunrise.” He walks him toward the doors of Arkham while Joker holds the bobble-head toy and pokes its head. Batman opens the door and pushes the Joker through, handing him over to a guard, who begins to lead the Joker away. “Thanks for the gift,” Joker says, glancing back at where Batman was standing, but he is already gone.


End file.
